Do you want to know a secret?
by Good old fashioned lover girl
Summary: Set in 1957 or 1958. John Lennon and Paul McCartney decide to try out new things one afternoon when Paul is bored at a family reunion. Slash.


Young Paul McCartney was at one of those boring family reunions. He didn't want to be there at all, but his father forced him to stay, because he had skipped the past reunions for being hanging around with the members of The Quarrymen.

"Can't I invite my friends over, dad?" The young boy begged, hoping for a positive answer.

"Don't even think about it. They're a bad influence on ye, especially that Lennon kid."

It all sucked. He had to pretend he was interested in all those adult conversations, and resist the urge to curse whenever his aunts squeezed his pink cheeks saying things such as: "Oh James, darling, how much have you grown up!" He hated when people called him James; that's why he always introduced himself using his middle name, Paul.

While he was thinking how the hell he could escape from his house without anyone noticing; which was kind of impossible, the doorbell rang, and his father opened the door quickly. When opening it, he found some boy he knew from school standing right in their front door. He was sure he hadn't had a conversation with the lad before, and he noticed the little twit looked so freaking scared.

Jim McCartney greeted, "Hello young man, can I help you with something?"

The boy was shivering, and his voice was trembling, "Hi Sir… I'm Thomas… From math class… I'm with your son…"

"Paul? In after-school math class?"

"Y-yes Sir… He wanted to give ye a surprise y'know… Today we had a special meeting and P-Paul said he couldn't assist 'cause he had a family reunion, and he said family is his most valuable treasure."

Paul seriously didn't know what on Earth was happening, and he clearly wasn't in after-school math class; he had more important shit to do.

"Is that right, son?" Paul's dad asked happily.

"Yeah, of course, dad!"

"T-The teacher needs him for today's meeting." Thomas said.

Mr. McCartney nodded pleasantly and announced, "You can go then, James Paul. I'm pleased you joined the club."

The left-handed boy left his house with real confusion, and before he could ask Thomas what happened, the lad from math-class approached him to one of the extern side walls of Paul's house, where the one and only John Lennon was hidden, standing with his typical look, smoking a ciggie.

Thomas' body was shaking, and his voice was still trembling, "I-I did what you told me… Here he is… How are you going to pay me?"

John replied, terrifying the kid more than he already was, "Consider yourself paid by not killing ya for telling Aunt Mimi I skipped class the whole week."

"But…"

"But nothing. Now get your ass away from here, your job is done."

Thomas ran frightened as hell, and John chuckled a little.

Paul sniggered, "Dear Lord, John, you saved me."

John smirked and smiled cockily, "Don't I always, Macca?"

The younger stepped a little closer to the older boy and smiled slightly, "I owe ya one."

"Nah, leave it there. You have already done enough for me."

"So, after school math club, huh?" Paul giggled and quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

"It was the first bloody thing that came through my mind, and your dad is dumb enough to believe that shit."

They just laughed together, until John proposed ― "Now let's get outta here."

"Where?"

"Our secret place y'know, where we always go with the band."

"Aren't they coming too?"

"Nah, they're fucking retards that must be shagging some bird right now."

The younger raised an eyebrow, "So just you and me?"

John ruffled Paul's hair, "Yes, I actually like you, McCartney… Well, you already know it."

"Thanks, I guess… You're cool too."

"I know." John grinned showing his characteristically confident look.

They walked to their "secret place", which was just an old little one-floor abandoned house that only had an old couch, a table with some bottles of beer on top along with six chairs, and the rest was empty so they could practice with the band whenever they wanted.

When the teenagers arrived, John grinned mischievously to Paul ― "I brought something I want to share with you."

"Really? What is it?"

John opened a pocket from his jacket and took out a plastic bag that had two cylindrical white cigarettes inside.

Paul stared at the cigarettes for a couple of seconds and confusedly asked, "What kind of ciggies are those?"

"Marijuana."

"Do you mean weed, right?"

"Yeah, same shit."

"Oh…"

John smiled, doing his best effort to convince the younger one ― "C'mon, let's try! I only got two, and you must feel special 'cause I decided to share them with ya."

Paul murmured, "I don't think it's a good idea…"

"Why not?"

Paul slowly explained, panicking a little, "I have drunk and smoked legal cigarettes… but never that kind of thing y'know… Dad is always telling me the risks of drugs and stuff…"

"See? You're such a good boy that's always following the bloody rules. That's why everyone thinks you're a fucking queer."

"I'm not queer, Lennon." Paul snapped.

"If you don't smoke the weed I'll tell everyone that you are."

Paul smiled and winked, "You won't."

The older blinked rapidly getting closer to the younger, "How can you be so sure?"

"You're mean to everyone and always want to look like an arsehole, but you care too much 'bout me."

John smirked, surprised about what he just heard. "Wanna bet?"

"I don't need to."

John was starting to lose his patience, "Ugh! Why is it so difficult with you? Just smoke the bloody weed!"

"Why do you want me to do it? If I don't smoke it, you'll have two ciggies just for yourself."

"Just do it for me, you twit."

Paul teased, trying to imitate John's usual smirk, "If you say it nicer and without the insult, I will consider it."

"I just want to share this experience with you, can't you see idio…I mean, cutie…"

Paul giggled, "Did you just call me _cutie_?"

"Bloody hell, no! I was going to call you _idiot_."

"But you called me _cutie_," Paul pointed out.

"Shut it, McCartney."

"Oh, what the hell, give me the cigarette."

John grinned and spoke, "That's what I thought."

John handed his younger friend the white thin ciggie. Paul stared at it with a worried look and held it delicately with his fingers. When he was about to place it between his lips, John took a lighter, "Let me." as John said this, he lightened Paul's ciggie. "You have to inhale deeply, Macca. Don't swallow the bloody smoke."

Then, John lightened his own cigarette and started smoking too. "You suck at this, son."

Paul rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

"We won't get high with just one ciggie."

"…And you want to get high?"

"Bloody hell yeah, that's why I brought more."

Paul inquired puzzled, "Didn't you tell me you only had two?"

"I lied," John smirked again.

"Why would you lie to cutie Paul?"

"Idiot,"

Paul chuckled, "Just give me more."

"You liked it, eh?" John asserted while taking out another bag full of marijuana.

They kept smoking and taking out more and more ciggies from the bag.

"So, what do you feel, cuti… What the…? I mean, Paul. What do you feel, Paul?"

Paul inhaled his cigarette, "Seems like you just did it again."

"Whatever… I'm hungry… and thirsty… and tipsy…"

"Yeah me too… I feel like I'm floating in the air…"

"Floating, floating, floating, floating…" John said repeatedly, getting lost in the words.

Paul worriedly asked, "Are you OK?"

John's eyes widened, "I feel like I want to fly."

"Fly over rainbows… like a pretty sparrow in the sky."

John giggled, "That sounded _so_ queer."

Paul raised an eyebrow, "And you calling me _cutie_ isn't queer?"

"Nah."

"Do you really think I'm a cutie?" Paul tried to sound serious, but ended up bursting out laughing.

"Ah shut up, you look like a bird."

"What do you mean?"

"You have a baby face, beautiful big eyes with long eyelashes, your eyebrows are so bloody perfect, so is your nose… you have adorable pink cheeks, and your lips look so smooth. Yep, that's right, you're like a girl."

Paul giggled again, "Do you realise what you just said is too much…_queer_?"

"I'm _not_ queer; I just said you look like a girl."

Paul joked, "With smooth lips you wish you could kiss?"

"Can I? I mean, just to try it, I just want to certificate if they're as smooth as they look, and if kissing you is like kissing a bird."

"Only if you say you're queer."

"What?"

"You can only kiss me if you say loud enough that you are a pretty queer."

John tittered, "Bloody hell, no! I'm not queer."

"Then why do you want to kiss me?"

John innocently smiled, "I told ye before: just to try it. I'm sure you want it too."

Paul rolled his eyes, "I don't."

John whispered, "Just look at yourself, McCartney, you're dying to."

The younger crossed his arms, "I'm not a queer."

"Me either, but we can do this… No one will know."

"No one?"

"No! Do you think I want people to know I kissed a boy?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Paul laughed.

"And besides, we're under the effects of drug. I don't even know if we're going to be able to remember this."

"You will."

"Oh yeah?"

Paul declared, sounding more serious than joking, "No one forgets Paul McCartney's kisses."

"Prove it, then." John grinned.

Without thinking it for a second, 15 year-old Paul McCartney grabbed his two-year older friend by the back of his neck, pulled him closer and kissed him softly. _'Jesus, this is better than kissing a fucking bird' _John thought, and continued kissing eagerly; this was probably the only time he was going to be able kiss Paul McCartney's smooth lips, which were actually smoother than he imagined. They didn't want to fall apart yet, so as he kept kissing Paul with more intensity, his hand gently stroke Paul's hair.

Eventually, they had to fell apart. Nothing lasts forever and kisses aren't the exception. They stared awkwardly at each other for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

Paul giggled and blushed, "Now tell me your experience. Are my lips as smooth as you imagined them?"

"No." replied the 17 year-old boy with indifference.

"No? So, it was like kissing a girl?"

"No."

They didn't emulate a single sound for three minutes or so, and Paul was kind of upset. John had just kissed him with such eager and now acted like nothing. Paul just wanted to curse in front of John, because he, by the way, was the one who had started it all.

Then, for Paul's surprise, John smiled and murmured, "Do you want to know a secret?"

"I guess."

"It was better." he whispered in his younger friend's ear.


End file.
